


Four Times the JLA Tried to Top Batman and the One Leaguer Who Managed to Do Just That

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bets & Wagers, Everyone Wants To Plow Batman, F/M, Fantasizing, Flirting, Gen, M/M, Nonconsensual Leaking of a Sextape, Propositions, Sex Tapes, discussions of sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Bruce Wayne's sex tape gets leaked and the JLA is unable to handle any part of it, especially when it becomes clear that the Big Bad Bat may just be a Big Bad Bottom.Four times Bruce gets propositioned by his co-workers and the one time he decides what the hell, why not?
Relationships: Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Original Male Character(s), Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 30
Kudos: 302





	Four Times the JLA Tried to Top Batman and the One Leaguer Who Managed to Do Just That

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Четыре раза Лига Справедливости пыталась соблазнить Бэтмена и один раз, когда одному из них это удалось](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29469033) by [PoolOfSpiders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoolOfSpiders/pseuds/PoolOfSpiders)



> yo i wrote this for my friend after we binged a bunch of the old justice league cartoon together and got into an insane conversation about what might happen if Bruce had sex with some fuckboy socialite who then leaked the tape, thus revealing how much he likes to bottom. It's just a bunch of borderline crack content, so enjoy it and have a great day!

**Hal**

“What do you mean  _ Batman’s sex tape got leaked?!”  _

Clark, stationed at the opposite end of the table, met Hal Jordan’s eyes with a grimace. “That’s… Do I really need to go into more detail than that?”

Hal looked at the Kryptonian in shock. “Uh,  _ yes?”  _

Those gathered around the table muttered in agreement or hid their faces behind their hands. Superman, looking awfully sheepish all of a sudden, rubbed the back of his neck and looked to Diana for help. “It’s all over the news?” he offered when Diana simply looked to the ceiling in exasperation. “I uh, I really don’t know how you haven’t heard about it already—”

“I’ve been across the fucking galaxy the past two months,” Hal exclaimed. “We don’t exactly get CNN out there.”

“It’s old news, Hal,” came Diana’s articulate voice, low and even and, oh boy, had he missed hearing that voice say his name. “We’ve got other business to discuss beyond catching you up.”

Hal held his hands out in front of him as he sat back down in his seat. “Hey, I’m all for getting down to business, princess. I just can’t believe that out of all of us it’s  _ Bruce’s  _ sex tape that got leaked here. How the hell did that even happen? Did some heiress hide a camera in her boudoir and decide to try revenge porn when he never called her back?”

He expected to get some laughs at that, or at the very least a few chuckles and put upon eye rolls. He was shocked, however, when Clark outright flushed red and Barry hid his face behind his hands. Diana once more looked towards the ceiling, making Hal wonder just who she was praying to. Zeus? Was it fucking Zeus or…?

“Um, guys?” He looked around and absolutely no one would meet his eyes. Hal’s smile felt a little tight at the edges. “What’s with the mood in here? It wasn’t Bruce in the batsuit, was it?”

No one answered. Hal pursed his lips and dug his phone out of his jean pocket hidden beneath the suit. “Alright, fine,” he muttered, unlocking the screen. He quickly typed in  _ Bruce Wayne Sex Tape  _ into Google and clicked the first video link he found. “Guess I’ll just see for myself—”

“Hal, wait,” Clark tried just as Hal hit play. 

The loud sound of moaning, tinny and muffled through the phone speaker, filled the room among the myriad complaints of the rest of the League. Hal, still grinning, drank in the sight of bare skin, poor lighting, and the… the unmistakably  _ masculine  _ sounds that came in between the rhythmic slap of skin striking skin. Hal held the phone closer. His eyes widened in shock.

“Holy fuck,” he blurted out. “Since when did Bruce take it up the ass?”

And of course Bruce chose that very moment to enter the room. Silence fell— which wasn’t the best thing, to be honest, since that just made the moaning that much harder to ignore. Hal fumbled with his phone, finally silencing it after a particularly throaty mewl that no one, not even Hal in all of his depraved glory, had ever imagined could come out of a mouth that prone to scowling. 

“Well,” Batman said when no one had the balls to do it themselves. “I guess Jordan finally got caught up on the news.”

The deep rumble of his voice echoed oddly in Hal’s ears. For some reason, all he could hear was that mewl, the dulcet rattle lingering beneath the gravel in ways he’d never quite picked up on before. 

A horrible smile slowly found its way onto Hal’s lips. “Hey,” he said, giving Bruce a lingering once over. “Nice of you to join us. Did you get a new cape? Looks real good on you, Bats. Real good.”

Across the table, Barry looked at Hal with alarm. Oh, yeah, Barry recognized what Hal was laying down. They’d been to enough bars for the speedster to know what Hal looked like when he wanted to score, and just like those evenings when Hal drank too much and got too cocky, Barry looked like he wanted no part of it.

“But better on your floor?” Bruce sank into his usual seat with all the grace of a gargoyle, his tone and expression patently unimpressed. “Really, Jordan. Since when were you interested in men?”

Hal raised a brow. “I have sex with aliens on the regular,” he said plainly, eliciting another choked sputter from Clark off to the side. “Do you really think I’d turn my nose up at a dick? How pedestrian do you think I am, Bats? And even if I wasn’t…” He bit his lip, giving Bruce another lingering look. “Well, if I’d known you’d look so good face down and ass up, I’d have thrown my hat into the ring sooner.”

“Jesus Christ, Hal,” Barry pleaded, hands pressed ineffectively over his ears. His face was as red as his suit. He looked to Clark pitifully. “Supes, please tell me we have HR up here. This can’t be allowed, right?”

Hal snorted, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stared Bruce down like a wolf on the prowl. “I was there when we wrote the bylaws, Barry. Last I checked, we didn’t put in anything about fraternizing.”

“Maybe we should,” Clark muttered. 

“You’ll get to be the one to tell Ollie and Dinah that then,” Diana chimed in helpfully, eliciting a wince from the Kryptonian that didn’t quite sit right on his usually carefree face. She turned to look at Hal though, dark brows knitted in consternation. “Though, I agree with Barry that this doesn’t seem appropriate. We are in the middle of a meeting. This isn’t the best time for Hal to… work on his flirtation skills.”

“A meeting? Is that why I walked in on Jordan sharing that video with the class?” Bruce’s voice was as dry as a desert, gaze frigid beneath the cowl. “I was five minutes late, Clark. How did you let things get this out of hand in five minutes?”

Clark just buried his face in his hands and shrugged. Diana reached across the table to pat him on the shoulder, and Bruce just sighed before resting his hands on the table and bringing up the meeting’s minutes that Clark had barely touched. 

“So… is that a no?”

“Jordan, shut up,” Bruce replied without missing a beat. “I’m going to assume that Clark didn’t get to the post-Vega mission debriefing and start there. Barry, you were the last one to speak with the planet’s leader there. How are they doing on rebuilding their capital?”

Hal slumped in his seat and crossed his arms petulantly. The others eagerly got back to business, but Hal didn’t take his eyes off Bruce for a second. The man glanced in his direction, then looked away, the rejection crystal clear and just as galling. 

Well, damn. Maybe he’d have to work on his game after all.

**Clark**

Clark was ashamed of himself.

His cellphone, some old Nokia-knockoff monstrosity that sent most of the younger Leaguers into fits, felt small in the palm of his hand. The screen was tiny compared to a lot of the touchscreen devices flooding the market these days, the speakers tinny and cut through with static. It barely took video. 

Depending on the strength of the WiFi, it barely played it either.

And Clark had been testing that feature of his phone an awful lot lately. Too much, in fact, to be healthy. He sat on his bed, heart pounding, and hit replay for the third time, one hand holding the phone while the other gripped the edge of the bed to keep from grabbing something else and really giving himself something to be ashamed over.

There was just something so… beautiful about Bruce without the cowl and cape. Not that Clark hadn’t seen Bruce naked enough times to necessitate a few extra sets of hands to tally them all up. Their line of work had a tendency to put them in situations far beyond what logic should ever dictate, and sometimes supervillains devised untested death rays that managed to function closer to an anti-clothing gun than anything capable of atomizing a person into ash. Add into it the sheer number of times they’d all been forced to strip from a chemical contamination or acid spray or whatever other crazy thing life threw their way... 

Clark could conclusively say that he’d seen all of his coworkers naked at one time or the other. 

But this was different. Even with the cowl off his face and his body unobscured, Bruce rarely ever stopped looking like  _ Batman.  _ Like something that wasn’t more than a man should be, or someone who didn’t carry the burden of so many tragedies on his shoulders at all times. 

Bruce bunched the sheets in his white-knuckled fists and groaned, low and throaty, as the man behind him slowly rolled his hips until they were flushed together. Clark, incidentally, gasped. There was such an… honesty in seeing Bruce like this, but beneath it all, Clark still saw the control Bruce demanded to maintain. The clenched fists, the half-smothered moans. Whoever was in bed with him, Bruce knew he couldn’t let himself go fully with him. Not completely. Not the way he deserved. 

The bed frame creaked out a warning. Clark sucked in a breath and loosened his grip before he broke it entirely. Another wave of shame rolled through him, hot and searing. They were  _ friends.  _ Best friends. He shouldn’t… He couldn’t...

A loud knock sounded on the door. 

Clark jolted so badly that his phone flew from his hand, striking the wall and clattering loudly to the floor. Outside, Bruce’s—and it  _ was  _ Bruce, Clark could tell just by the way he breathed—heartbeat ticked ever so slightly faster. The adrenaline response. He’d heard.

“Clark?” Bruce called out in what was decidedly the Batman voice, not the Bruce one. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry!” Clark called back, rising off his bed in an instant. His phone was silent; the fall must have broken it or stopped the video. Either way, it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to use his x-ray vision to see that Bruce was contemplating using his override to unlock the door, so Clark dove towards it, opening it before Bruce could get that far. 

Clark stuck his head out, hoping his smile looked natural. “Sorry about that, Bruce. What do you need?”

Bruce, still in the cowl, still as masked as he ever was, smiled a little at Clark, sending his heart into a fit of palpitations. “Just wondering if you had time to look over some evidence samples from my current case. There are some odd readings come off a few of them and I thought your experience with alien substances could come in handy pinpointing the place of origin.”

The worst thing about the cowl, Clark realized, was how much it encouraged a person to look a little too closely at Bruce’s mouth. 

“Um…” He realized belatedly that he hadn’t heard the vast majority of what Bruce had said. A new wave of heat rose to his cheeks. Clark leaned on the doorframe, the door opening a bit wider to allow him the room to slouch. “That’s… Sure. Anything you need.”

The smile morphed into a frown. Bruce glanced into the room behind Clark. “Are you feeling okay, Clark? You’re looking a little peaky.”

Clark averted his gaze. “Maybe I’m… getting a cold.”

“Kryptonians don’t get colds.”

They didn’t, but Clark refused to examine what else could cause the heat searing his cheeks. He shrugged instead, parting his lips to say something, but when he turned to meet Bruce’s gaze, he found he’d made a critical error in opening the door at a time like this.

He realized just how badly he’d messed up when Bruce’s entire body stiffened. A glance told him that Bruce’s eyes had moved to the floor. Clark followed his line of sight. Followed it straight to the phone with the video still frozen across its cracked screen. 

Bruce’s gaze flicked upwards to meet Clark’s knowingly. 

“Not you too, Smallville.”

There wasn’t an ounce of reproach in Bruce’s voice. Just… an air of knowing, like he’d always known how Clark felt when he looked at him. And he probably did, now that Clark thought about it. World’s Greatest Detective. He wouldn’t be fooled by Clark’s piss poor attempt at a poker face. 

So… Clark bolted. He just darted past Bruce and out the door, down the hallway, and he didn’t stop until he was on the far side of the sun, the single thing in the known universe that burned hotter than Clark’s flushed face.

Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor. 

**Barry**

For the sixth time in a two-second time span, Barry found himself looking in Bruce’s direction, and for the sixth time in that two-second time span, Barry found himself cursing the very name  _ Hal Jordan.  _

It was Hal’s fault that Barry was in this state. It was Hal’s fault that he’d— that he’d even begun to  _ consider—  _

It wasn’t Barry’s fault! That’s all he wanted the record to show. It wasn’t his goddamn fault that he’d never thought twice about certain… Leaguers. That he’d never really viewed them in anything but a platonic, friendly way, or ever took much time to wonder how they might look in… an intimate setting, how it could sound, how it’d  _ feel— _

Barry’s leg bounced so quickly beneath the table that it threatened to disappear in a blur. Ollie side-eyed him a bit but Barry just shook off his look of concern. Superman finished up his debriefing with a few words of praise. They’d done well today, saved a lot of lives. Barry figured that should help him sleep easy tonight, but he knew it wouldn’t. Ever since that damn video leaked, he’d struggled to sleep at all.

“Get some rest,” Clark said, and people began to push back their chairs to get up. Barry darted out of his own. Usually there would be some conversation after these sorts of things, some milling around, some last minute chats before everyone went their separate ways. He didn’t really feel up to it today. He went for the door, and, once he cleared it, sprinted towards the elevator and hit the arrow that would take him up to his room.

Of course, that left him waiting, and when you moved faster than the speed of sound, the thirty seconds it took to call an elevator felt like a goddamn eternity.

He wasn’t even sure  _ why  _ he was so messed up over it all. It was  _ Batman  _ for Christsake! Surly, growly, loner Batman with his staunch code and intimidating presence and… deceptively flexible body. He wouldn’t have even been  _ considering  _ it if Hal hadn’t thrown his own hat into the ring. Topping Batman was… Hell, topping  _ Bruce  _ was just… 

It opened up possibilities, okay? Bruce was  _ strong  _ for a normal guy, and Barry couldn’t get the image of him laid out on his front, ass up, Barry just jack-hammering into him so fast that the bed would crack the plaster— 

The elevator chimed and Barry darted inside it before the door had a chance to fully open. He was sweating so much beneath his suit that he’d probably need to race back to his room to change. A cold shower would help too. Yeah, he needed one. God, he was so going to kill Hal for this, even if it ended up being the last thing he ever did. 

“Going up?”

Barry didn’t drop his hand from over his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, kneading until he saw sparks. What had he ever done to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? Heavy boots rattled the metal floor as they entered the elevator. The scent of dark leather filtered past Barry’s nose. He froze stiff. That scent…

When he dropped his hand, he saw a pair of white-lensed eyes staring at him from across the small lift carriage. “Feeling alright?” Bruce asked, pale pink lips suddenly the only thing Barry could focus on. “You took a hard hit during that last fight. Do you need Leslie to take a look at you?”

Oh, God. Oh, Christ. This was hell, wasn’t it? This was actually hell. Barry grimaced and shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just feeling a bit… tired. That’s all.” 

The elevator began to move upwards. Bruce’s mouth flattened. He took a step closer. “If you’re hiding an injury,” the man intoned, “we’re going to have problems, Allen.”

Barry couldn’t restrain the shiver that rolled down his spine. His back met the cool metal wall, his fantasies taking on an entirely new angle now that they were trapped in this tiny box together. “I’m… I swear, I’m fine, Bruce,” he croaked. His face felt fever-hot. “Really, I just need to lay down and I’ll be—”

A broad hand flattened against the metal panel above Barry’s head. Bruce leaned in, his scent permeating the little oxygen getting to Barry’s brain. “Allen,” he said flatly, clearly going for a Gotham-styled intimidation technique when Barry’s libido could only read it as  _ porn.  _ “Don’t make me drag you down to medical myself. Where are you hurt? Your head? Your leg?”

Bruce looked down, perhaps to see if there were any incriminating gashes or tears in his suit to give him away, and once again, Barry was reminded that his costume left little to the imagination. 

He was hard. Criminally so, and unfortunately for him, this was one crime he’d hoped he’d get away with.

The silence that followed was awkward. When it broke, it just got worse.

“I’m… flattered, Barry, but I—”

_ Chime!  _

The burst of relief that crashed through Barry nearly leveled him to the floor. “Sorry!” Barry croaked, the door opening right in the nick of time. “It won’t happen again!”

With a quick sidestep and more than a little speed-force behind him, Barry didn’t wait around for Bruce to reject him twice; he sprinted out of the elevator so fast that he left a red and gold blur in his wake, and didn’t stop running until he hit his cold shower.

**Roy**

There were plenty of bad ideas Roy had looked back on and soundly blamed on his own lack of self control. He was mature like that. He wasn’t in the habit of blaming others for his own bad decision making. Not even when they really, probably deserved it.

“Dude, your dad made a fucking sex tape,” Roy spat out in between uncontrollable bursts of laughter. “How the fuck did that even happen?”

“Do we seriously have to talk about this?” Dick grimaced, doing his best to focus on repairing the busted innards of one of his escrima sticks. “It’s bad enough I have half the League asking me how Bruce is handling things. I really don’t need you adding onto it too.”

Roy scoffed and kicked his feet up onto the workbench. He cracked open his beer and took a deep pull. “They’re just asking you about it ‘cause they wanna see if your dad is down to clown— sorry, poor choice of words,” he finished when Dick shot him a nasty look. He grinned anyway, not all that sorry. “Who can blame them? The big bad Bat is a big bad bottom. Who wouldn’t try to shoot their shot in that direction?”

Dick snorted. “As if any of them would get anywhere with him to begin with.”

“Oh? You wanna make a bet?”

Dick’s tools stopped working. “You know what?” the ex-Robin muttered, giving Roy a humored glare. “Sure. You shoot your shot, Robin Hood, and you tell me how that goes.”

Roy lifted his beer in a toast. “Easy money, Grayson. You’re on.”

Roy really wasn’t the type to blame others for his bad decision making, but considering the circumstances, Roy felt it fair to blame Dick for what he was about to do.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out what hours Bruce frequented the Watchtower. The man hated taking over monitor duty but suffered the responsibility with almost robotic regularity, and when he found himself on the moon base he tended to make the most of his time up there. He’d look over the files, fix any computer issues that had sprung up in the wake of everyone else’s negligence, and sometimes, once every blue moon, Bruce Wayne would deign to use the training rooms.

Roy still hadn’t figured out  _ why  _ he did that. He’d been in the Batcave; he knew firsthand how great its offerings were. Maybe it had something to do with testing out the equipment to make sure it was operating properly; maybe it was just a case of even Batman getting a bit sick of pulverizing a punching bag with the scent of damp and bat shit lingering in the air. Either way, it left Roy with an opening, and if he wanted to make the most of this wager, he’d need every advantage he could get.

Which was how he found himself at the rowing machine, shirtless, sweating, and working up a good flush while shooting careful looks in Bruce’s direction every few minutes. Bruce had been at it for a good forty-five minutes, pumping iron and adding more weight at intervals so regular they had to be timed. His thick thighs hung off the weight bench and tensed every time Bruce lifted the press. He had to be lifting close to three hundred pounds. Even thinking that did funny things to Roy’s libido. 

Finishing up his set, Roy took a large drink from his water bottle before rising off the rowing machine. He sauntered over towards Bruce, slicking back his hair. “Hey, Bats,” he called out, waving when Bruce glanced over in his direction. “How much are you lifting there? Two-fifty? Three?”

“Three-twenty,” Bruce said, barely winded, tightly corded arms handling the weight with a grace Roy couldn’t ever imagine emulating. 

Roy whistled. “Nice. You’re a fuckin’ beast. I ever tell you that?”

“What do you need, Harper?” Bruce did another rep with laser focus. 

Roy was a lot of things, potentially even an idiot, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to say, “I want to gloat to your son that I fucked his dad, so you down to clown?” to Batman’s face. 

Putting on a charming smile, Roy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, well, you know,” he murmured, doing his best to come across as suave as he usually was when chatting up a hot babe. Just because it was Bruce Wayne, the  _ Batman,  _ didn’t mean that the process was any different. “It must take a lot of practice to keep those muscles primed and ready for action.” He paused there, shooting Bruce a look full of heat. “I appreciate it. All that… attention. Figured you might too. You know. If you ever… needed a spotter.”

Bruce paused in his reps. His stony face hardened into granite as he hooked the bar over the holder and slowly sat up, trickles of sweat running down his chiseled neck. He dabbed at his skin with his towel, eyeing Roy like he knew his game and wasn’t impressed by his performance. 

“Roy,” he said in that gravelly voice of his. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Roy didn’t let it faze him. He puffed out his chest and shot Bruce a grin. “Me? Just trying to help you get the workout you deserve, Bats.”

Bruce stood up. He towered over Roy. It was impossible not to sweat at the proximity, especially when Bruce closed the distance between them, staring Roy down until he felt like a twelve year old again, just hiding behind Ollie’s back when their paths crossed with Gotham’s guardian bats. 

“You’re out of your weight class, Harper,” Bruce said, all steel threaded gaze and Batman-snarl. “If you met me while wearing short pants, you’re not likely to ever get into mine.”

“But—”

_ “Speedy,”  _ came the Batman voice in full throttle, sending a conditioned wave of fear straight through Roy’s being. “If you leave now, I’ll let you pretend this never happened.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” Roy stuttered, voice cracking like he was fourteen again. He fumbled for his shirt and turned tail without hesitation. Over his shoulder, he practically squeaked when he called back, “Sorry, sir.” 

Fuck Dick and fuck the bet. Roy absolutely wasn’t ready—emotionally or physically—to fuck Batman.

**+1**

The room was in an uproar and, once again, Bruce just wondered what the big deal was. 

Hal with his frat boy lust; Clark with his hayseed school boy crush; Barry with his cowardly interest; Roy with his childish swagger. It’d been one after the other, worse than the dogged media back in Gotham raving and frothing over the revelation that Gotham’s very own Bruce Wayne enjoyed a little sausage in his soup, as Vicky Vale had so eloquently put it.

It wasn’t as if it were some new grand marvel; Bruce just had the bad luck this time around not to choose a partner with a little more discretion. 

Even now, Bruce felt a few sets of eyes settle on his shoulders. The Watchtower’s atrium wasn’t enormous or all that grand, but it served their needs well enough when they had their little post-Apocalypse ending celebrations once or twice a year. That made it a little hard to avoid people; there weren’t many corners to hide in, no convenient vents to slip into to observe from on high without inviting conversation or—with the way his week had been going—another ill-advised flirtation from a coworker. 

“Here,” a quiet voice said at his shoulder just as a glass of champagne entered his field of vision. Bruce followed that hand up to its owner and found Diana smiling knowingly at him. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Bruce took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She settled in at his side, eyes skimming the gathered crowd. “Normally I would make a joke about you hiding in a corner like this, but I suppose you’ve got a good reason this time.”

The JLA certainly did like to gossip. It was likely Diana already knew how Bruce’s week had gone. He frowned as he sipped from his champagne. “I figured I wouldn’t make myself an easier target by mingling. It’s a wonder this hasn’t happened before now. Maybe we  _ should  _ put in some rule against fraternization.”

“It’d last all of three days before someone cried foul.”

Bruce sighed. “You’re probably right. I’d imagine your people are a lot less heavy-handed when it comes to things like these.”

Diana shrugged, an odd little smile gilding her lips. “The Gods have their stories. Some of them were more successful than others.” Her eyes danced as she gave Bruce an unmistakable look. “I’d be happy to regale you with a tale or two, Bruce, if you’re bored.”

Now, that was just… Hal hadn’t been that much of a shock, and Clark had been mooning after him from the moment they met, and if Bruce had the patience for promise rings and five-dates before third base, he might have considered it. Barry and Roy barely deserved a second glance, but Diana… In all of his calculations, Bruce had never expected  _ Diana  _ of all people to throw her proverbial hat into the ring. 

Even more shocking was the realization that Bruce wasn’t that opposed to the thought.

He brought his glass to his lips to hide his sudden smile. “You sound like you’ve had firsthand experience to share.”

“Less experience and more that I’ve reaped the benefits of their indiscretions.”

Bruce raised a brow. “Like?”

Diana glanced around to see that they weren’t being listened to before she leaned in and brushed her powerful shoulder along the line of Bruce’s arm. “Forged of Hephaestus, husband of Aphrodite,” Diana whispered, the soft press of her lips hot through the material of the cowl. “It was an odd gift to receive but one I wield with the proper amount of reverence.”

Was she… No. She couldn’t mean— “I… wouldn’t consider those two the paradigm of sexual congress,” Bruce sputtered, feeling a little hot under the cowl. “What sort of gift could they give you?” 

It was odd how he could feel Diana smile; there had to be something wrong with his cowl. It shouldn’t be thin enough for sensations that minute. A strong, calloused hand settled on the back of Bruce’s cowl covered neck. “Let’s just say the two of them have an arrangement. Aphrodite took her marriage vows to heart; only her husband may enjoy the bounty of her loins. Her lovers, on the other hand…” Diana’s hand gripped him tight, showcasing the strength she hid behind that Mona Lisa smile. “They settle for taking her passion in another way.” 

_ Taking.  _ Christ. 

“You’d look good beneath me, Bruce,” Diana said casually, like it was nothing for her to suggest they leave this party early and make use of whatever godly strap-on she’d been gifted as part of her birthright. “I’d be happy to see to it if you’d care for some stress relief after the week you’ve had.”

“That’s…” Bruce’s voice was dry. He drained the rest of his champagne and wondered if he looked as flustered as he felt. “That’s the best offer I’ve heard yet.”

Diana’s eyes twinkled. “Really? Care to make good on it now, in that case?”

Bruce set aside his glass and gestured for her to lead the way. “After you, princess.”

As they went, Bruce felt those eyes follow him every step of the way. Hal’s wide eyed pout, Clark’s kicked puppy frown. Barry looked conflicted and Roy, off in the corner with a glowering Dick, just looked relieved he’d lost his poorly thought out bet.

Diana’s strong hand locked around Bruce’s wrist to pull him through the door. He spared the rest a slight smile before he followed her out; he didn’t feel guilty at all.

It was  _ Wonder Woman _ . Who wouldn’t say yes to her?

**Author's Note:**

> sup! just to clarify since i guess there's enough continuity tomfoolery these days to make it confusing, the Roy i was working with was preboot Roy, circa the early 2000s Green Arrow stuff where he was carting Connor off to strip joints just to make him squirm XD preboot roys my fav so thats what i wanted to go with. either way, this was legit hilarious to write and i hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did making it. feel free to leave a comment if you did and if you're interested in seeing more of my writing you can check out my website at tdcloudofficial.com or my intensely unhinged twitter @tdcloud_writes. until next time!


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